Paperpeople
by WonderstruckWithDisney
Summary: A story that goes in depth about what George and Meg were thinking on the day that they met. Thanks in advance for reading/reviewing!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first Paperman fanfiction! Let me know what you think! DISCLAIMER: I don't own George or Meg, Disney does!

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It was a blustery morning in New York City. Meg Kittinger rose to the sound of her alarm clock, its trilling noise reverberating back and forth inside of Meg's head. Scratching her head, Meg lightly hopped out of her bed, turning off her obnoxious alarm clock and heading to the bathroom of her high-rise apartment. Her bare feet pitter-pattered across the wooden floorboards, dodging the plethora of boxes she still had to unpack from her move to the Big Apple.  
_ It's going to be one windy day,_ Meg thought to herself as she heard the shutters outside her window rattling audibly.  
But also, Meg thought to herself, it's interview day! She carefully combed her tawny brown hair and pulled her business outfit out of her closet. Her outfit consisted of a carmine red blouse, worn below a gray cardigan and a black pencil skirt, and some fun—but professional, Meg reminded herself—pumps that her sister had given her as a parting gift when Meg had moved to New York.  
Meg then checked her watch. _Oh no! It's 8:22! I can't miss this interview!_ She hurriedly grabbed her purse and left her apartment building, applying her favorite shade of deep red lipstick as she headed to her first job interview since she had moved from her parents' house in small-town Texas.  
It was a long story, the reason why Meghan Louise Kittinger moved from hodge-podge Katy to the city that never sleeps. She had recently graduated from college, and she had decided it was due time to go out and see the world. Or, at least, New York.  
However, Meg's parents wanted her to settle down. She had turned 23 that May, and her mother and father were scoping out Katy's eligible bachelors: rich, snooty country gents that Meg didn't want to affiliate herself with. When she had heard of her parents' plans, she was exasperated. It was _1944_, for crying out loud! She could make decisions for herself! For Meg, moving to New York was her way of declaring her independence, and it was also a self-inflicted challenge to find her soulmate.  
Meg was reminiscing on these thoughts when she arrived at the train station, wondering about the day when her prince would come

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It was just another Monday for New Yorker George Litwak. He woke to the sound of his cat, Tiggy. Yes, a grown 25-year-old man had a cat. And _yes_, it was affectionately named Tiggy. Tiggy had been meowing restlessly at 7:45 in the morning, and George begrudgingly dragged himself out of bed.  
"Good morning to you, too," George muttered to the tabby cat that stared at him. Rubbing his eyes with with hands, George stumbled into the dimly-lit bathroom of his dingy apartment and turned on the radio. No, he had no idea why there was a radio next to his sink. Bing Crosby crooned the latest hits while George combed his scruffy dark brown hair and brushed his teeth.  
"_I love you,_" George harmonized along with his static-y radio. Tiggy meowed in what seemed to be exasperation as George took his uneager cat in his arms, attempting to dance to the beat with the feline.  
"_That's the song of songs_," George sung into his toothbrush, with Tiggy draped on his shoulder, "_and it all belongs to you and me._"  
After putting on his business attire, George walked past past his empty hallway to the kitchen, and managed to assemble out of his food rations a meager plate of scrambled eggs before exiting his humble abode. He definitely couldn't miss his train to work for the second time in the past seven days. His superior, Mr. Kraut, already hated George enough, and would find any reason to pick on the gangly, six-foot-five man.  
"Bye, Tigs," George said to his cat as he scruffed up her polished mane. George walked out with the sound of Tiggy's scratching meowing reverberating through his ears, not looking forward to the berating he'd get from Mr. Kraut that morning.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks for all of the favs and reviews! Sorry about taking so long to update, I'm super busy 110% of the time! :/ Anyways, hope you guys enjoy it! :3

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8:30_. God, please don't let me be late to this interview! _Meg prayed in her head intensely, scurrying quickly to the station, her hair flouncing back and forth to each footstep. _If I'm late, could you at least give me an explanation, God? Please? _Meg huffed in desperation. At last! She finally made it to the station, clinging tightly to her neat, organized stack of papers required for the interview. She walked up the the main walkway, where many businessmen-and some women, too!-were waiting for their morning commute. The wind picked up speed, and Meg's hair was flying all over her face, some pesky strands even being rebellious enough to stick to her red lipstick. Meg rolled her eyes, attempting to use a hand to push her hair out of her face, while still keeping a firm grip on her papers.

It was a failed attempt, however, as one paper, her _resumé_, slipped out of her hand, fluttering in the smoggy New York air. _No! _Meg ran after the paper, almost crashing into a tall, lanky man standing in between her and the paper! _Aha! _Meg cheered to herself in victory when she got hold of her paper once more. She then noticed the tall man staring curiously at her, and Meg regained her composure. She tucked her loose strands behind her ear, and held tightly to her papers. Out of curiosity, Meg snuck a look at the man standing next to her, the man she nearly crashed into a good thirty seconds earlier. He was tall, had a large nose, _but quite dapper_, Meg thought. She then realized what she had just thought. _What? Meg, get yourself together! You don't even know-_FWAP!

A sheet of paper flew into her face. Her eyes opened wide in shock, and she heard the man beside her gasp. She felt her lipstick leave a mark on the paper, as the man she'd been eying hastily took the paper off of her face. He looked at her with a face of sheepish apology, and Meg giggled. As it turned out, a perfect, red, lipstick stain was left on the paper. She repressed her laughter, making at snort-like sound. _Gosh, Meg! Can you be _any _worse? _Meg thought to herself. Before she could utter an apology to the man, he began to laugh as he looked down at the "kissed" paper. As she smiled, she noticed her train pull up, and she quickly ran to it, taking a seat by a window. The train chugged to life quickly, and when Meg looked back at the station, she saw the mysterious, tall man looking back at her, holding the "kissed" paper. She settled into her seat, her heart fluttering just a bit. She looked down at her watch, and noticed that she probably wouldn't make it to her interview on time. Despite the fact she would be late, she smiled to herself, recalling the encounter.

_Guess that was the "explanation" God was trying to tell me about, _Meg thought to herself.

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George strode to the train station at a leisurely pace, thinking about the stack of papers he had waiting for him to file. He made it to the train station at his regular time, 8:35. Like always, he held some of his papers in his hands, and took his spot amongst the businesspeople. _Dang, it's pretty windy today, _George thought. He maintained a tight grip on his papers as he stared straight ahead.

All of a sudden, a paper flew past him, almost cutting him across his nose. Before he had time to react, a _beautiful _woman nearly crashed into him, in attempt to catch the paper. George looked at her, starstruck, as she grabbed her paper and took her place. Next to _him! _George smiled a little wider, straightening his posture, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She was short (which he didn't mind,) had large, round eyes(_which shone brighter than stars_, George dreamily thought,) and silky, chestnut brown hair, similar to his own (except he _never_ brushed his). All the while he was thinking, he hardly noticed one of his papers flit away, landing on the lovely lady's face. _Oh, God, _please! _Don't make me look like an idiot _now, George moaned introspectively. He panicked, taking the paper off of her face. Before he could even utter a single word of apology, the woman began to giggle, snorting in the process. George gave himself a full body-scan, hoping his fly wasn't open or something, but noticed she was looking at the paper. He peered down, noticing her lips had left a mark on the paper. George laughed along with the girl, but when he looked up, she was gone.

George's eyebrows creased upwards, already missing the girl's presence. He looked up at the departing train in front of him, and found her, sitting by herself as the train rolled away. Just before it left the station, the girl looked back, making eye contact with George. He smiled sadly, knowing that she was a missed opportunity at friendship. _Or maybe, even more, _George wished. Still holding the lip-stained paper out in front of him, he watched the train roll away.

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Well, that's chapter two! While you're waiting for me to update (or you just need to waste some time,) I HIGHLY recommend reading A Royal Romance by GarvinMark. It's about Rapunzel's parents. It's an amazing story, just sayin'.

Read/fav/review! Thanks so much and God bless!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey, all! Here's another update, but solely from Meg's POV, as this is where the plot thickens. ;) Gave her a little backstory, and you can expect some for George as well. Enjoy and God bless!**

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Meg scurried hastily into the tall building for her appointment with the recruiter as the clock behind the secretary struck nine. _Phew, _Meg sighed in relief, _I just barely made it! _She walked nervously over to the woman typing relentlessly on the typewriter in front of her, and Meg coughed, making her presence known to the lady. The bombshell blonde woman lifted her eyes, making careless eye contact with Meg.

"Hello there, I'm here for an appointment with Mr. Dannelly," Meg piped out in her syrupy, Southern accent. The secretary smirked to herself, checking her calendar.

"Name?" the secretary asked, in a thick New York accent. "Meg. Well, my appointment is under Meghan Kittinger," Meg stammered, her cheeks turning rosy. _Did it just get hot in here, or what? _Meg reprimanded herself as the woman looked for her name on the schedule.

"Oh, yes, Miss Kittinger, right on time! Follow me, right this way." the secretary got up, her kitten heels clacking on the linoleum floor. Meg followed her up a flurry of stairs, her pulse speeding up with every step she took. Her head pounded, rehearsing the answers to the questions she'd supposed she'd be asked. After all, the was her first interview _ever_, in the city that never sleeps.

Aside from her quest to find real love, Meg had also wanted to escape the sameness of it all. From the start of her life, Meg had been raised to inherit her dad's airplane-shop. She grew up in the shop, which was in the middle of nowhere, learning all of the parts of all types of planes and jets. Now, with the war effort going on, everyone in Katy had come together to help the soldiers overseas, donating parts and whatnot. Sure, Meg supported the war effort and the soldiers-as a matter of fact, her ex-beau Chester had been drafted to France right after their split-but she didn't want to deal with planes her _whole _life. She wanted freedom! She wanted to choose her _own _life, her _own _job, her_ own _boyfriend, _not_ the son of her dad's best friend. Hence, she ran off to the Big Apple, much to everyone's chagrin.

By 9:15, Meg and the secretary finally made it to the office-on the _tenth _floor, Meg grimaced-and the blonde secretary rapped on the door, squawking, "Mistah Dannelly, Meghan Kitchen is here to see ya!"

"It's _Kittinger_," Meg whispered, but the secretary shrugged her off, a d the door creaked open, revealing a man sitting at a desk, his hands clasped together as he glanced at the door. The secretary shoved Meg in, which caused Meg to stumble haplessly inside as the door slammed shut. After regaining her balance, and recollecting her composure.

"Hello, sir, my name is Meghan Kittinger," Meg greeted formally, reaching out her hand in salutation. Mr. Dannelly, devoid of any emotion on his face, refused to shake her hand, and flatly told her to sit down. Meg proceeded to sit down on the chair in front of the desk, placing her résumé carefully on top of her lap.

"So, Miss Kitchen-" the tall man started. "-Kittinger," Meg interrupted, but then immediately regretted it.

"Yes," Mr. Dannelly sneered, "Miss _Kittinger_, tell me, why do you want to work for my toy company? _Why," _Mr. Dannelly drawled, "on earth would you want to work for a _toy _company?" Meg then cleared her throat, and replied smoothly, "Well, I have several ideas I could bring to your lovely company. One idea I had was to play games on the television, or have board games on a screen. Just imagine, playing games on a television set! It would bring the whole family together!" Mr. Dannelly raised an eyebrow at this idea, and requested that Meg elaborated. Excitedly, Meg described her concept, using her hands animatedly and jumping around the cold, dull office. After her spiel, the recruiter stood up from his desk, and excused himself. Meg smiled to herself, sitting in the office chair, feeling quite positive that she acquired a job.

However, time began to pass, and Meg checked her watch. _He's been gone twenty minutes! This must be good, _I hope, Meg pondered. She glanced out the large, opened window of the office. It was noon, and despite the bright sunlight, there was a breeze, making it rather drafty in the silent office. She noticed a man working vicariously in an office in the building across from her. Meg observed the man closely, but kept looking back at the door to check if the recruiter had returned. The man in the building across from her was busy, folding up a paper intricately. As she watched this man ever-so-eagerly fold the piece of paper, she recognized his stature, his hair, his _nose... Funny, _Meg thought_, he looks like the man from-_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the return of Mr. Dannelly and another man. Meg, rather unhappily, returned her attention to the two businessmen. The new man, a tall fellow with greasy, slick pompadour, walked up to Meg, shaking her hand briskly.

"Miss Kittinger, my name is Mr. Myers. Mr. Dannelly here told me your idea, and although we'd like to take you in, we don't have any managerial spots available at this time. The only position we have available is in our industrial department, overseeing the manufacturing." At the sound of _industrial_, Meg cringed inwardly, recalling the brutal plane-parts she'd left behind in Texas. Not wanting to disrespect the men, Meg suppressed her frown and said, "Is that all?"

Mr. Myers inspected Meg with one eye, and replied, "Yes. If you choose to accept, you can start next Monday. It has a fair salary, for the situations we're in," the man concluded, alluding to the current world war.

For a moment, Meg almost considered accepting, but held back. She was meant for something bigger, she felt it. She walked towards the men, shaking their hands, and said, "I'll have to pass y'all-I mean _you all-_up on the offer, but thank you for your time." And with that, she swiftly turned around and proceeded to walk out of the office. Just before she left, however, she glimpsed at something resting in the trash bin by the door.

A paper airplane.

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**PS to Treesap: Yes, the Litwak arcade was the headcanon I was going with ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: hey, I'm actually updating pretty quickly! Enjoy the sho-erm, fanfic! God bless!**

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George arrived to his office ten minutes late, much to the displeasure of his boss, Mr. Kraut.

Upon entering the office, several pairs of eyes looked up from their paperwork to see who it was, but once they'd recognized George, they rolled their eyes and continued their work.

"Tardy _again, _Litwak," Mr. Kraut sneered to the gangly employee. George shrugged as he replied, "Good morning to you too, sir." He then carried on to his desk where he sat down and adjusted his old, faded picture frame of his cat, Tiggy.

George had been working at Kraut and Associates since age twenty-four, but hated every moment of it. The work environment was filled with stuffy, fifty-something year-old men, who smoked cigars at their desks and found their careers to be the most riveting things on the planet. George didn't know how they could enjoy working in this dull environment, but supposed it was because they were all the same age, from the same background, like carbon copies. George was the odd one out, being the only man in the room who rolled up his sleeves, played music as he worked, and most importantly, was under the age of fifty.

George spun around in the swivel chair in front of his desk, not caring that he had a quota of assignments to fill before clocking out of work. He thought of his friends, Andrew and Christopher, twins that had enlisted to fight in Europe against the Nazis, and had been sent off just two months previous. They were George's best friends, his confidantes, and to George, who hadn't any close family that was still living, his brothers.

George had also signed up to fight, but was held back after his medical evaluation. As it turned out, George had not passed the medical evaluation, as he had never been the healthiest and caught illnesses easily.

With his closest (possibly his only) friends gone, George longed for something-no, _someone_-that would help ease his sadness.

Then came the girl that morning at the station.

George reminisced over the lovely female that George had met that very morning, laying the paper that she had "kissed" down on his desk. He flattened it out, checking for creases while remembering her amber eyes, her chestnut-colored hair, and he could've sworn that he'd seen light freckles scattered all over her cheeks.

Mr. Kraut reappeared at George's desks, dropping a hefty pile of papers that had to be filled out and filed. George glared up at his boss, but quickly redirected his thoughts back to the girl at the train station.

_ She's long gone now, _George thought.

Or was she?

All of a sudden, the kissed paper slipped away from the table, threatening to fly out of the semi-open window next to George's desk. George, in a state of dire panic, grabbed the paper before it escaped his hands. He was _not _going to lose that, too.

As he had retrieved the paper, George noticed something outside.

Across the street, in the building parallel to George, inside an open window on the same floor as him, was _she_.

The girl. That kissed his paper. George stood up, his hands on his window.

"This-this _can't _be," George gasped almost inaudibly, as he didn't want his coworkers to snoop around. He couldn't just let her slip out of his hands again! He had to do something. Anything that would get her attention. Anything to make her just _look _at him once more.

George scanned his desk for something to throw or write on, his gaze settling on the dense pile of papers Mr. Kraut had ever-so-blithely deposited on the table. A plan was already set into motion inside of George's mind. _Oh, I'm gonna have to thank Mr. Kraut later, _George chortled to himself.

He grabbed the first, crisp paper from the neat pile, and began to assemble nothing other than a paper airplane. It was rather suiting of George to be doing this, as he was known as the Paperman all throughout middle and high school for assembling nifty planes and catapulting them everywhere on campus.

Finishing the plane in a brief ten seconds, George stood back up, sliding his clear glass window fully open. Checking to make sure nobody was watching, George leaned slightly out of the window, paper airplane in hand. He aimed, pulled back, and _whoosh!_

The plane sailed, gliding almost effortlessly due to the breeze. For a good two seconds it was smooth sailing, but before it could even pass ten feet, the paper plane took a nosedive, spiraling down into the busy street below. George exhaled, making another. The next time around it almost made it-until the wind directed it two feet to the left of the girl's window.

The resilient man he was, George tried again and again and _again_, dozens of planes were intercepted by birds, caught by mysterious, rotund men the floor below (George mouthed _no! _to the burly recipient,) knocked off course by the wind, and once, a plane even landed in the dustbin of the room that the woman was in.

Scores of paper cuts later, George was still at it, still determinedto get the beautiful woman's attention, when all of a sudden George reached out to grab another sheet to fold. His hand grabbed nothing but air, and he whisked around, seeing that he had finished using every last sheet of paper. Mr. James, the man in the desk next to George, shifted his pile of papers further from George, ensuring that they wouldn't be used.

George looked out of the windowmoans saw that the girl of his dreams was shaking hands with whoever else was in the room with her. His pulse quickened. He _had _to do something. Looking down, George made a last-ditch effort and began to fold the kissed paper in front of him. He held it, poised and ready to throw, when a gust of wind snatched the plane out of George's grasp. The paper airplane careened downward, landing far, far away from its target.

George cried out, knowing that had been his last hope. The girl had left the room.

He was ready to run out of the room and follow the girl when Mr. Kraut reappeared with a new, crisp pile of documents for George. No words were exchanged between the two, and George glared at the man, who was sneering as he gnawed on a toothpick. George's eyebrows furrowed.

_This is it. Now or never, George, _he told himself. _This is what Christopher and Andrew would want you to do._

Just as Mr. Kraut turned around, George took a leap of faith and darted out of the office.

For the last time.


End file.
